Come Back To Me My Love

1

"Dog!" She shouts in excitement.

"Okay. Let's see." I look around the house to see what we can use to draw a big dog. I don't have card board to use but I do have a wall. I don't mind her drawing on the wall as long as she's happy.
"Will this work?" I move the small dining table out of the way to show her the wall that's big enough for a dog drawing.

"Hm..." Amia licks her thumb and measures the size of the wall from her distance. She learned it from a stranger at a park but has no idea what it means. I sort of laugh whenever she does that.
"Pufect."

"Alright. Want to go get your colored pencils?"

"Okay." She runs to the one room we share and brings back her colored pencils.

"So, what do you do first?" I ask.

"Draw head." She grabs a black colored pencil and draws the outline of a dog's head.
I let her guide me in drawing the body, tail, and legs. My own daughter scolded me for drawing one leg bigger than the other ones. I couldn't help myself but laugh.

"Alright Amia. We will color this after we eat. Okay?"

"Eat what?" She asks while fixing the ears.

"Hm... how about potato soup?"

"I love potato." She looked at me straight in the eyes but I had to look away for a moment and act like nothing bothered me.

"Would you like to help me make the soup Amia?" I had to compose my emotions for a second but didn't want to make it obvious. I take a breath and look at Amia once more, waiting for her answer.

"Okay." She stands up and lifts up her sleeves. She learned that from me since I always lift up my sleeves before cooking.

"Wash your hands first." I push a stool near the sink so she can reach the water.

"Mommy?"

I turn around and see Amia trying to reach for the handles. I turn on the water and lift her up a little so she could wash her hands.
"You know next year I don't think I'll be helping you wash your hands. You're almost tall enough."

"I know." She whispers with an attitude. I softly laugh and help her dry her hands.

"Okay. Let's get started. You can measure the corn starch, and I will cut the potatoes. And remember, 1 cup only." I remind her. She nods and looks for the measuring cup. It keeps her busy whenever I ask her to find something for me.

I take out the bag of potatoes from our small pantry and wash them straight out of the bag. I get five potatoes for this soup because I'm not sure if my daughter is really hungry today. If not, then we'll have left overs.

As I place the washed potatoes on the cutting board, I grab the knife and begin cutting them into cubes. Amia's preference.
While cutting, I tend to remember the way I used to cook for Amia's father. I can't even say his name because it hurts to remember. But at the same time, I love the small happy memories we used to have on occasions. And one of them was help making her father's favorite soup. Potato soup.

*Flashback*

'"Severus you are doing it wrong. I said cubed not keep it julienne. Let me show you." I push him out of the way so I can cut the potatoes right.

"Am I cooking or you?" He asks as he stands behind me to watch me cut the potatoes.

"Well it looks like I'm cooking today. Because you worry me sometimes." I respond.

"I should say the same thing to you." He chuckles as he hugs me from behind.

"Why would you worry about me cooking?" I ask confused.